


Those You've Known

by doorwaytoparadise



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Gen, POV First Person, Sort of AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doorwaytoparadise/pseuds/doorwaytoparadise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin is diagnosed terminal before joining MJN. He spends his last year alive as the captain he always wanted to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**   
_(Douglas POV)_

I had never realized life could be so disgustingly fleeting until I met Martin Crieff. He came into our lives in a quiet, nervous manner, like he didn't want to intrude, but desperately needed the human company.

I had lived a long life already by the time I came to work for the small airdot known as MJN. After the mess with Air England, I was struggling for a job and really had no choice but to accept Carolyn's offer. Looking back, I wouldn't change a thing.

 

MJN was a company made up of four people. The CEO, Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, her son the steward, Arthur Shappey, myself as the First Officer, Douglas Richardson, and whoever was the Captain at the time.

Carolyn was a formidable woman, coming out of divorce determined to keep standing. Despite her ferocity, I knew there was a caring buried underneath.

Arthur is quite the individual. Dim, and a bit of a clot, but relentlessly cheerful nonetheless. He seemed capable of finding happiness in everything and sometimes, that was exactly what we needed.

The four Captains MJN has had never made much of an impact on me, so are not worth mentioning aside from the fact that their leaving brought MJN to where it was.

And me? I was a veritable sky god. Clever and skilled, able to fix anything and do anything. I was arrogant and rude and an all-around difficult person. I knew it, but had no real reason to change. 

Until he came. The one Captain that I shall never forget and who will always be the only Captain I will ever defer to.

 

But that is the epilogue, the aftermath of a story that needs to be told about a man who's not around to tell it. But that's fine. I promised myself I'd do it for him. He deserves that at the very least.


	2. Chapter 2

I had been the First Officer for quite some time, watching as captains rotated out, by my own hand or otherwise. Carolyn always got a little annoyed whenever she had to find a replacement, but the reason for the previous one's departure was usually fairly valid. It was on a stupidly dreary day in the middle of September. Arthur was tossing an apple in his hand as we sat in the portacabin. I was pointedly not doing any work. I knew our CEO was hunting for a captain, but didn't think she would be sweeping into the room with said individual in tow so suddenly. 

The person who followed her in didn't look much like a Captain. Skinny, short, nervous-looking, and a bit miserable, I was skeptical in believing he was being entrusted to command GERTI. However, what Carolyn says, goes. Arthur, of course, thought he was brilliant, but I was more concerned with the fact that he looked like a stray wind could blow him over. He was introduced as Martin Crieff. Arthur immediately introduced himself as well, calling the man brilliant within his first few sentences.

He gave a small, hesitant smile to Arthur, as if unsure that the compliment was genuine. I knew immediately this man had to have very little self-confidence. Lovely.

I gave him a lazy once-over and noted the way he held himself. He looked tired, almost sick, his clothes hanging off of him, and like the slightest noise might make him start.

Carolyn seemed a bit tense about something as she needlessly told us Martin was to be our new Captain, but I figured it was just the stress of getting back to work with a new employee.

 

Our first flight together wasn't anything terribly memorable. He made a decent take-off, even if he was a stickler for the rules. His landings could use some work though. A little prissy, although there was a certain hesitance in his every action. I was all set to brush him off if he were to try to give useless orders, but he seemed to have decided not to bother. Like he had given up. It was a little depressing, so I went easy on him. Not that I didn't tease him, because I wanted to make sure he knew I always did that. Better to set the record straight from the start. At first he had gotten flustered, almost offended, but as we flew more and more flights together, he steadily warmed up. To everything, really. From Carolyn's barking, Arthur's cheer and culinary experiments, to my teasing and the flight deck's casual atmosphere.

Overall, he was definitely a very nervous person, twitchy even, and panicked over little things. He had plenty of things to be faulted for in a pilot.   
But then there were times he would get this look. When we were in the air and things were going smoothly, and he could just relax, he was almost a different person. He smiled wider, laughed at jokes, and bantered more. I took it in stride. Just a quirk of his, and enjoyed it. Perhaps I should've known it was more than that.


	3. Chapter 3

Time passes and Martin quickly becomes integrated in the MJN dynamic. His presence is a welcome addition to the crew and he blends seamlessly with all of us. 

Carolyn, strict as she was, seemed to have a soft spot for the bumbling pilot. For despite his stuttering and nervousness, he had his moments of incredible character. I'm fairly certain she saw more in him than he did in himself. I also got the feeling she was providing a maternal support he had been severely lacking (I later found out I was right).

Arthur, naturally, adored Martin. Then again, Arthur adored the ground crew, the vet, the post man, and that one barista we met in Rome. Still, the adoration for Martin was something that ran a bit deeper and Martin seemed to need a person who constantly told him how brilliant he was. Martin certainly didn't hold himself very high, no matter how pompous he acted.

As for myself, I treated him much the same as I would a brother. And sometimes a son. Carolyn nurtured him, but she was his boss, and Arthur was for positivity only, so that led to me being the shoulder to cry on, so to speak. I found out about his family problems. How his father had not wanted him to pursue being a pilot. How he died and practically told Martin flat out to simply become an electrician. How his siblings were terrible in their smugness and success. How his mother seemed to prefer to pretend she didn't have a third child. And his financial worries. Very little money to begin with, and not being paid to fly. His living situation wasn't too bad. A private small flat, one that was cheap but clean. He had muttered something about health before flushing slightly and changing the subject.   
So he ended coming to me for advice and for someone to listen. I let him. Despite him not having been with us long, I had already become fond of him. I wanted him to trust me, to think of me as a friend. And those were the moments I couldn't help but see him as a son. He was so lost and needed that support so desperately, whether he was willing to admit it or not.  
As for the times he didn't need a paternal figure, I was merciless as a sibling. The good kind, not the ones he actually had. I teased and taunted, poked and pried. I took pleasure in winning and acted completely full of myself. Sounds a bit mean, and it almost was at first. But I soon discovered he could give almost as good as he got. I don't want to sound too presumptuous, but I like to think that our bond was the strongest and closest. And I'm fairly certain all of them, Martin included, would agree.

-

There is one morning where I am, miracle of miracles, not late. I know Arthur is off somewhere and Carolyn as well. Martin was the only one in the portacabin and I could hear him before I even touched the door. Music was being played inside and I paused to determine exactly what it was.   
What surprised me was the fact that it was Martin singing. He seemed embarrassed to be caught, once I had opened the door at the finish, but I made some half-teasing, half-complimentary jibe and he gave me a small smile. After that, I made a point of singing in the flight deck when word games got boring, just to try to get him to sing along. Sometimes I would sneakily record him on my phone, blackmail being my excuse, though I wasn't really serious. I'll be forever grateful I had done that.

-

Small incidents highlight themselves in my memory, significant in some way I can't name, but at the forefront of my mind nonetheless. They flash themselves like images on a movie screen, drawing my attention and marking themselves as important. I rewind these scenes and think of the signs that were there, but could never hope to piece together at the time.

-

 

When Carolyn demands I take Martin's hat and go and intimidate some irritating passenger, I spare a glance at Martin. He almost looks like he wants to protest, to say something in his defense, perhaps about how he's the Captain and he can handle it, but something makes him stop and he simply gives a resigned sigh, passing me his hat and turning back to the controls.  
At first, I was a tad confused by his behavior, having been ready to tease him, but his reaction was unexpected, and I let it pass, moving to do as Carolyn said, and hoping to ask him about it later. Of course the passenger was a complete arse and by the time I was through with him, I had just about forgotten Martin's abnormal reaction, and had instead grumbled to him about the client.

-

 

“Well. Who wants to live forever?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“It's just, well, I-I-I mean-dying's not, not _that_ frightening a prospect, is it?”  
“Articulate today, aren't we Captain?”  
He sputters a bit more, face flushing red, and I can't help but smirk in amusement. He just sighs and tilts his head in a way that suggests a subject change. I let the topic move to some discussion about one of our recent clients, taking his earlier statement as something to not worry about.  
I didn't realize until far later that he had been completely serious.

 

-

Martin has been Captain of MJN for several months now. He's gone through Birling Day, and a good number of cities across the globe. His piloting has improved over time and his panic seems to have mostly subsided. I revel in the fact that despite his annoyance with me, he actually listens when I give advice, at least in regards to flying. Dating, he never seemed interested. But after a while, I let that go as well, figuring he had his reasons.

Lately though, I've noticed how much more exhausted he seems to be. Not noticeably, but we've gotten close enough that I can read the signs. I question him, once, but the look of helplessness he gave me was almost too much. It only lasted a second, but it was enough. Martin was telling me I couldn't help with this, whatever it was. So I simply helped in any little way I could. If that meant going out of my way to make sure he got a good cup of coffee or something like that, so be it. He needed it.

 

-

 

Its a few weeks later but I notice that Martin barely seems to put up a fight for the cheese tray.

-

 

Life goes on. We work. We fly. We travel. We mess around and play games and get in trouble and get out. We laugh, we yell, we nearly cry. And every day I feel like we're becoming more and more of a family. Martin's exhaustion does not get better, but he seems happier regardless, so I simply carry on. We all do. Of course, it was simply a calm before the storm.


	4. Chapter 4

We are about a month shy of a full year with Martin as Captain when things begin to change. Small things, barely noticeable, but enough that it catches my attention. 

His exhaustion seems to go from simple tiredness to a bone-deep dead weight. His weight lessens. I can see it, even with his uniform on. I often catch him staring into space with a lost expression. When questioned, he simply brushes it off. He eats less. He starts looking as ragged as I'm sure he feels. I worry that he's sick, but when I mention it to Carolyn, her face closes off briefly and she assures me it's probably something else. I'm momentarily surprised, but knowing how much she cares for Martin, I accept it. Still, I worry about him.

I try to talk to him, but he looks so pained, I drop it. I tease him, just a bit, testing the waters, and he perks up immediately. I feel a flood of relief so strong, I stunned myself, but recovered enough to take another light jab at Martin. I figure if he's alright to verbally spar with me, than he'll be fine for now.

 

-

_Arthur POV_

Skip stopped me in the galley. He had taken a break from the controls to get something, and waved me over. I was happy to, but he seemed different. Not in any particular way, really, but it just seemed really important to know there was something off. He smiled at me, a kind of crooked smile, not all happy or anything. And he thanked me. I just smiled and told him “you're welcome” even though I wasn't really sure what he was thanking me for. 

-

_Carolyn POV_

Martin looked up at me from his desk. He looked so lost and so much like a child, the mother in me wanted to wrap him in a hug and not let go. He didn't say a word, but he didn't have to. I knew.

-

_Douglas POV_

That calm before the storm I mentioned? Well, the storm was finally here.


	5. Chapter 5

_Douglas POV_

He calls me up late one night. At first I feel annoyance, but there's something in his voice that makes me pause. I'm almost afraid when I agree to come over, but I gather myself and leave. When I arrive he opens the door and makes some mention of a mess, even though it's ridiculously organized. He smiles, a little brokenly. I was wary as it was from the phone call, but his body language starts to fill my stomach with dread I can't explain. My fears, as it turned out, were not unfounded. 

 

We sat on the sofa and I watch him pull his thoughts together. He turns to me and gives a bitter, shaky laugh. Then he tells me.

 

All about the disease that has slowly been killing him for years. How there was no way to fight it and his death was inevitable. I let him ramble, telling me about the limited contract with Carolyn and how he was so desperate to fly, he went unpaid, because no other company would hire a dying man. I am numb. I take in this information, listen as he tells me how his own body will betray him. The weight loss and fatigue had already been showing, but the pain in his body he kept well-hidden. He tells me he won't be flying for much longer at all. His vision will start blurring and his breath will come shorter and shorter, until it simply stops.

I feel my own start to hitch and have to force myself to be calm. Martin looks panicky enough for both of us. I can tell this has been weighing on his mind, a guilty secret he has desperately wanted to tell. I know he's felt terrible for not telling me, so I don't feel any anger for only finding out now. I simply thank whoever is listening that I got to know him so well at all.

He asks if I'll miss him. I ask if he's really that unsure of himself, or was I too subtle about the fact that yes I am fond of him. He laughs, and gives me a half-relieved half-exasperated look. 

 

We spend the night talking. Simply talking. About anything and everything. I tell him about my marriages and my daughter. My days at Air England. My smuggling adventures. Medical school days. He tells me about school for him, his first, second, and third attempt at a pilot's license. How he hadn't tried again until years later, because he had gotten the diagnosis. He told me of doctor visits and medication. Of hospital stays and pain. Of his family, and how they had all left him to die alone. He looks so miserable but I can't help a brief moment of contentedness that he has managed to find MJN. A real, proper family, maybe not by conventional means, but I dare you to try and find one more close-knit. 

 

At some point during the night I hug him. There was nothing else I could do at that moment, so I hugged him. And dear god, I can feel his ribcage through his shirt. 

I was, for once in my life, honest-to-god terrified. I didn't want to lose him, to watch him die, to see him in pain. He was too young, and it was so incredibly unfair. He was too important to me and such a good friend and I cared too much about him. 

 

How did this man make such an impact in just one year?


	6. Chapter 6

It was a day just as dreary as the day we had first met. How utterly sentimental.   
We were on standby, and Carolyn and I were in the portacabin. Arthur had run off to do god knows what, after he had spoken with Martin about something. Martin had come in and finished his paperwork, before glancing between Carolyn and I. He bit his lip and made a request.

One walk, around and through GERTI. That's all Martin wants, and he says he won't be long, nervous and stuttering, until Carolyn practically pushes him out the door with an exasperated hum of approval. I watch him go, observe as he walks around the old craft and can't help but notice the slowness, the sheer exhaustion that is dragging him down. Carolyn and I share a look, somehow knowing. The two of them had had a talk earlier that day, and I had a feeling I knew what it was about. 

 

-

 

When Martin climbs into GERTI, I give him some time then follow. I find him in the flight deck, just standing there, staring at the controls, looking so lost.   
I make some comment about not needing any safety checks, and he looks up, startled. At first, I was worried I was intruding, the look on his face unreadable, but then he smiles, almost relieved at my presence. I don't remember what exactly we talked about, but I clearly recall him firmly stating, 

“It's soon.”

I can feel the first stirrings of distress inside me and it must have shown on my face, for Martin gives a small smile and changes the subject. We talk about how MJN is a family, not a business. How Carolyn tries so hard to save money, how Arthur finds such simple happiness. Throughout our conversation I see him fading. I can read the lines of a downhill battle in the way he looks and acts. His voice, his eyes, his expressions, all tell me one thing: defeat.

Our talk has dwindled to a comfortable silence, and he looks around. He looks so peaceful, and perhaps that's why it was such a surprise when he suddenly fell.

 

It is so unexpected I nearly didn't react in time. Martin just collapses where he is standing and I barely manage to catch him. 

He is in pain. I can see it in his eyes, in the expression he can no longer control.   
His breathing is irregular, a sharp rasping sound echoing around the flight deck each time he struggles to take a breath. I am frozen, gripping his hand in mine and simply cradling him. I remember he was so light, so small for a man in his thirties, but at the time the only thing running through my mind was to not panic. And Martin, remarkably, was not doing so himself. For a man who became flustered over a simple warning light, it was incredible to see him so steady. Despite the inability to properly take in oxygen, he is calm. He has been expecting this. 

“Douglas.” He breathes my name, a pained exhale, as his eyes find mine and stay there.   
“Douglas. I'm not afraid.” 

“Oh, Martin.” 

His name comes to my lips, whispered out like a prayer. A desperate plea to stay. We both know it is impossible. I hold his gaze, unable and unwilling to look away.  
His eyes close, briefly, spilling a few tears that had gathered, before opening again. I watch him, unable to truly comprehend what I'm witnessing. He blinks. More tears fall, leaving wet trails down his face. My grip on him tightens. His eyes close once more, and I find myself holding my breath waiting for them to open.

 

It is only after I register my lungs screaming for air and that he is unnaturally still, that I allow myself to crumble.

 

Martin Crieff passed away in my arms aboard his beloved GERTI.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur is near inconsolable. Carolyn has had the entire time to get used to the idea, but the sheer finality of being without our Captain seems to have finally settled. As for myself, I don't know what to feel. 

The funeral passed in a blur that I can't remember. I do remember his distinct lack of family, but I was upset enough as it was to not dwell on it.

His will is read, the little that he had distributed out. He didn't have much at all, really. But he leaves me a journal, a photo album, and his hat.   
The minute the hat is placed in my hands I feel my throat constrict. Once I open the album and see its contents I feel my eyes water, and the minute I open that damn journal I finally start to cry. 

The album contained photographs, ticket stubs, hotel card keys, and everything of that nature, gathered from every flight we took. The pictures are ones I can both remember being taken and ones where I never realized a camera was present. There is one picture that makes me smile through my grief. Carolyn must have taken the picture and given it to Martin. We were stuck waiting in some random airport for some reason or another, and Martin, Arthur and I had all fallen asleep in a pile. I was in the middle, Martin leaning into me, and Arthur on my other side, slumped back on the seat. We all looked so at ease. It was painful to remember how content we were.

 

And that journal. It contains so much. From details about his illness, to a simple statement about his day. There are entries written like a diary and some that read like a story. He has filled the journal with his thoughts, his fears, his hopes. Its like reading Martin's heart. I flip through all the pages, noting how much happier he was after joining MJN.

At the very end of the entries there is a piece of folded paper wedged in between the pages. My name is printed neatly across one side. 

I unfold it. I read:

_Douglas,  
If you're reading this then obviously I'm gone. I'm not going to get all sentimental or anything like that, but I do want to say thank you. I had no one in the world. I was alone and dying and desperate and depressed. But MJN was the best thing to happen to me. All of you made my life into something worth being happy over. Having the kind of security of knowing I had a family was so, in the words of Arthur, absolutely brilliant. I never lived crazily when I found out. Didn't go out and sky dive or mountain climb or any of that other rubbish, but I did see the world with people who loved me and who I loved in return. And that makes it more than worth it. My only regret is that I hadn't found MJN sooner. But I was so lucky I found it at all. You made my life so much better and made me into a better man because of it. Even if it was brief._

_So have a good life, Douglas. And know that you were my best friend, my closest confidant, and my strongest support, whether you were aware of it or not. And I will always be grateful. My love to you, Arthur, and Carolyn, forever. And please, don't grieve for me, for I'm finally flying.  
Sincerely yours,  
Martin_

 

I don't think I could ever cry as much as I did after reading that.

 

 

=

 

_All things he ever lived are left behind.  
All the fears that ever flickered through his mind.  
All the sadness that he'd come to own.  
And it whistles through the ghosts still left behind._


	8. Epilogue

I miss him, the idiot boy. Sometimes I think I'll see him at the controls, hear him panicking or losing a game, but I turn in my seat and find another man in his place. It's gotten easier, but at first, I felt my heart constrict every time from the disappointment.

I know its not just me. I see Arthur, exuberant as he normally is, pause in the face of making coffee. His hands tell him to make two, but he knows I am the only one of the current pilots that drinks it. He gets this forlorn look on his face and it is so disheartening. 

Carolyn simply tries not to dwell on it. I know she still hurts. Martin was her second son and losing a child is something no parent ever wants to experience. But we still manage. We carry on, as we British are supposed to, though he remains in our thoughts.

=

There are days when the flight is too long, the passengers too unruly, or something else that is just too much, and I find myself thinking of him, and I simply shut down.

On those bad days, when I can't be bothered, I read that letter Martin left and I stare at those photos. The ones where I can see it in every fiber of his being that he is happy. And I am content to know I helped with that. 

Even now I know he's not entirely gone, so I simply turn my gaze out the flight deck, to the sky he so loved, and content myself knowing that he is finally free. 

So let that be his story.


End file.
